


introduction to seasonal botany, 2parknote2 edition

by auxanges



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Multi, Pale Polyamory, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 16:22:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 752
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16432802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/auxanges/pseuds/auxanges
Summary: “Seriously? It’s human Halloween—”“Dude, you can just call it normal Halloween—”“It’s human Halloween and I need your terminal incurable whining like I need a twenty-ton rock through this window and into my solar plexus. So cut the shit before I cut it for you!”





	introduction to seasonal botany, 2parknote2 edition

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lua](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lua/gifts).



> i'd really love some pale action and maybe some quadrant vacillation with the idk, anything goes really. i can see dave suggesting erisol be a sort of party trick or decoration, or even mentioning he would get lots of candy by just showing up to someone's door. it doesn't have to be ill intended but it still makes erisolsprite feel like crap and the three of them end up having a moment
> 
> -
> 
> this ship hit me like an eighteen wheeler i dont talk about how much i love erisolsprite enough  
> the prompt was so cute i hope it aint too far from what you had in mind! happy halloween!

You step back to take a look at your pumpkin for the third or fourth time and purse your lips. “I dunno, man. It’s still lacking some kind of pizzazz.” 

Karkat looks at you the way he always looks at you: like he doubts your ability to get any swankier vis-à-vis your (admittedly rookie-tier) Halloween preparations. “You’ve been mangling that fruit for hours, Dave. I don’t think there’s any more shit to de-pulp, let alone pizzazzify.”

“Pumpkin’s a vegetable,” Erisol says from his perch at the end of your table. 

You glance at him over your shades. “Uh, no, pretty sure it’s a fruit.”

He groans, as he frequently does, at himself. “Fucking duh, it’s a fruit. Incredible, two pans combined and one a them is actually a handicap on the other.”

Karkat looks at Erisol the way he always looks at him: with some emotion you can’t quite place,one that twists his mouth in a way you like to try and kiss off and bunches his eyebrows together. “Contrary to popular belief, this house does not actually need any help in the apathetic dipshit department, but your team spirit is really stepping up its game.”

Erisol rolls his eyes. At least, you’re pretty sure he is, because those glasses are bigger than yours and twice as ugly, but like fuck you’re gonna tell him; the vibes in the kitchen are harshing exponentially. “Outstanding. Lookin forward to my participation ribbon coming in the mail. What else can I do to liven up the place around here?”

Karkat runs a hand down his face like he can wipe away the mounting tension in his teeny body. (You have, on several occasions and with varying degrees of success, also tried this.) “Seriously? It’s human Halloween—”

“Dude, you can just call it normal Halloween—”

“It’s human Halloween and I need your terminal incurable whining like I need a twenty-ton rock through this window and into my solar plexus. So cut the shit before I cut it for you!” 

You raise your hand, carving tool in the air like a schoolboy’s pointer finger. 

Karkat rounds on you: your boyfriend does not cut an intimidating figure compared to some of his acquaintances, but you respect his dedication to the cause to the point where it kinda turns you on. “You have a question, Dave?”

“Are you hitting on him?”

“ _What?_ ”

“What?” Erisol sputters, followed by “no blades, no blades!” when you brandish your little pumpkin pokey thing in victory towards him. 

You gently put down the offending implement. “There’s something going on here. Karkat’s blood pressure is high enough to pierce a neat skylight through our ceiling. And you…” you gesture to Erisol, from horntips to half-assed ass. “You are just so…you’re so—”

“He’s a mess,” Karkat offers, his head bumping between your fourth and fifth rib. 

“A mess,” you agree. 

Erisol looks at you the way he always looks at you. 

Only he doesn’t. Normally you can’t tell, ‘cause he looks at everything in this world (and the previous) like gum stuck to shoes he can’t even fucking wear. It’s like he sharpens around the edges, a little: you didn’t really know Karkat’s friends before they got greener and significantly closer, but you feel like maybe this is how he’d known them. 

You decide you would like to know him, like this. 

He says, “what are you planning to do about it?” 

You and Karkat exchange a glance, shoulder to shoulder. He links his pinky with yours. “I mean. We can try to—make you a little less of a mess.”

“Statistically, that’s got less chance than the survival rate a whatever crawled up your chute and—”

“Don’t give me _thatithics_ , you ill-coordinated crime against nature. There’s two of you in there, there’s two of us out here, that’s gotta get at least half your rocks off.” Karkat’s proximity to you seems to absorb some of your lexicon. You are so goddamn smitten, you are. 

Erisol turns to you. Through his specs, you can almost see his eyes. “You’re sure about this?”

“Hey, man black-slash mans, it takes a mess to know a mess.” You grin. “Karkat has an emergency pile in the closet.”

“I do _not_ have a—”

“And we have candy for days.”

Karkat headbutts you again, and the look they both give you as you head to your room is not like any you’ve had before. 

Compared to your butchery of the pumpkin on the table, it’s really not that scary. 


End file.
